Bathroom Remodel

Ya'll never would've guessed I would blog about something like this!

Well, we are currently quarantined and I need projects to keep my mind from going dark so I decided to spruce up our downstairs bathroom. This is the only bathroom that guests use, and it is also my 15 year old son's bathroom. It's always just looked a bit grungy, no matter how much we clean it.



The walls were a browny purple, which I didn't even know existed. It had one of those old sliding clouded doors, that had mildew all the way around the metal that I couldn't get to. The first step was to get the shower door off.

I cannot tell a lie, this is the only part I had Mat help with.

The bathroom also had all the chrome (why is everything chrome!? Thx Tik TOk)

I gave myself a budget of $125 and figured out everything I could do with that budget.

My number one goal was to paint the walls. I figured I could do with just a quart of primer and a quart of paint, because the bathroom is so small. I also needed a quart of white paint for the wooden lower half of the wall. (I'm sure there's a word for it, but I don't think it's shiplap)

I removed all of the fixtures first, Some of them had screws/anchors that couldn't be removed, so I just added extra spackle (here) ($3)  on top of those, and then blended it in to the rest of the wall and then sanded them down with 120 grit with my hand sander. Some of the anchors still shown through the spackle, so I added additional layers until they blended in with the wall.  I bought a huge pack of different grit sandpaper for my hand sander, because I needed multiple grits and they were about $7 a pack for each grit from Lowes. This is what I ended up getting and it worked for all my sanding needs and was super cheap! ($16)

I had originally wanted to also paint the countertops, and possibly the shower, but the kit needed to do so was $70 and had such mixed reviews that I was leery of it. Also, I realized I could get an entire new vanity with a new countertop for around $100, so it didn't seem worth the effort.

After I taped everything off using painters tape, I painted the bottom part of the wall and the vanity  with  the primer (here)($10) , let it dry for almost an hour, then painted it with a quart of valspar professional interior pure white in eggshell that I got from Lowes (here) $14 ( I did an online pick up order). I wanted most of the bathroom to not be shiny, but I thought if the walls were matte and the floors were matte, a little sheen on the half wall and vanity would be a nice contrast. I didn't get a good before pic, but the lower part of the wall and the vanity were a really yellowy cream color before.

I then primed the upper wall with one coat of the same primer, followed by 2 coats of the same Valspar Ultra but this time with a flat sheen and the color Salamander (Benjamin Moore 2050-10). I barely had enough to scrape by, so you might want to err on the side of caution and get a gallon. My bathroom is super tiny, but the walls go pretty high.

While coats were drying, I worked on the fixtures that I could remove.


I didn't get any before pics of the towel hanger, light switch plate, or toilet paper holder, but just imagine chromeness galore.

I first sanded all of them by hand (they were too small and weird to use my hand sander) using 60 grit and then 120 grit. 

Then I chose a place outside that was protected by the wind, used a mask and gloves, and sprayed them with an automobile primer (here) $4, let them dry and flipped them over and did another coat of the primer. This is a gray primer since I was planning on painting them a dark brownish color- if you're going lighter, you might want to use a white primer. 

I gave them a few hours to dry outside (I placed them in a box so they wouldn't get leaves, etc blown on them) and then got to work spraying them with this AMAZING spray paint. I cannot tell you enough how much I love this. It has so many tiny specks of metallic in it that it truly looks like it was never painted. It's so perfect. ($5) - You want to stay back by about 10-12 inches to make sure you have a nice smooth spray and no drippage. It's worth it to have to do a few layers if you must. I only had to do one layer, then flipped over and did one more layer. They're beautiful! 

This was the end of day 1- I wanted to make sure everything was nice and dry before I started on the floor. 

Day 2, I had Mat put all the fixtures back on and hang up my shelves.  (He is picky about how things are hung, so I had to let him have his moment). 

I then taped off and did a major drop cloth taping job on the light fixture and the faucet to prepare them for the same treatment the removable fixtures got on day 1. 

I started by taping all around the fixtures with just painters tape, then made myself a little tent around each one. I knew from reading all these self help blogs that the spray will go everywhere no matter how hard you try to contain it, and with my bathroom being tiny I didn't want to risk ruining anything I had just worked so hard on. 

Fixtures before: 

After once again taping,  sanding, priming, and spraying.

After: 

It doesn't even look like they were sprayed! I am obsessed with them. *Don't use the water for a few days so you know it's 100% cured, I even spray painted the drain so I wanted to be super careful of this*

My original plan was to do something cute with the existing mirror but I just could not make it work. I didn't like the fixtures of how it stuck out and I tried different ways to frame it but just couldn't make it cute. I eventually caved and bought an oval mirror from Target which was my biggest splurge and took me over budget: $49 

I also removed the cloudy glass bulb shades and just used pretty Edison light bulbs that I got on Amazon $15 (I called them Einstein light bulbs for 3 days before my friends lovingly corrected me without making fun of me) 

Okay- at the end of  Day 2, I was finally ready to prime the floor. I did the floor very last because I knew that once it was done, it would have to dry for about a week to be fully cured and usable and I didn't want any sawdust or paint spray residue on the floor after I started. So I fully scrubbed the bathroom before I started on the floor. I bleached and cleaned and scrubbed the shower, the toilet, the sink, etc. 

Then I got to work on the floor. I first swept it, then vaccumed it at max suction (my vaccuum has this option, but it only has enough battery life for like 6 minutes so I use it sparingly) then mopped it with a mild cleanser. 

I then sanded the absolute shit out of it. Mat was worried about the dust getting into the air, so he hung a sheet over the door (we had removed the door while I working on it), and I wore a mask. I also had the catcher thing on my hand sander so I could hopefully limit what was flying into the air. 

I used 60 grit for all tiles where there was nasty stuff built up, then 80 grit. Then I did the entire floor harshly (like, I went to town for a while) with a 150 grit, and then finished with a light and quick 220 grit. 

Then I swept, vacuumed, and mopped and again. 

Once it was dry, I used this stuff $7. I really don't know what it's for or what it does, but everywhere I looked recommended using it or something like it before painting floors. 

Once it was dry, I primed the floor using a good primer. I did research on what primer would help paint stick to a typically smooth and difficult to paint surface and this $15 is the one that kept coming up. It was more expensive than the rest, but I figured when reading reviews it was worth it. I rolled it on with a 4 inch foam roller. This was important since a lot of blogs said to avoid the nap rollers because of the now gritty floor and the type of paint we were using. I only used foam rollers for the floor.

That was the end of Day 2- since it was a Sunday, I knew I wouldn't have a chance to work on it until the following weekend so I set up a fan to get rid of the fumes and to make sure it was super dry! 

Over the week, I started to look at the primed floor and thought that maybe I should just paint it white and forget about the stenciled floor. It looked so good already, even with just the primer. But my friends talked me into sticking with my original vision and because I'm stuck in this house anyway, I decided to go with it. 

On Day 3, which was a Friday night, I swept and vacuumed the floors once again, and then used a wet cloth to make sure I didn't miss anything. Once it was dry, I applied the first coat of white paint, using a paint brush for the grout lines and then rolling it out over the tiles with my 4 inch foam roller. I used Valspar Porch Floor and Patio paint in white $19. It smelled like straight up gasoline, so I used a mask and had the windows open and fan blowing nearby. 

My strategy was to kneel in the shower and do half the floor, then hop over the painted part and land outside of the bathroom and then do the other half. 

I was nervous about this paint, some blogs said to let it dry for 24 hours, which would have killed my Day 4 and my goal to finish the bathroom this weekend, but some said it was fine to paint another coat after an hour and just not to walk on it for 24 hours. I chose to wait 3-4 hours and went ahead and did another coat. 

It wasn't fine. I am not sure if I did it too thick in parts or what, but some of the paint from the first coat moved into wrinkles when I put over the second coat.  I was real sad. I finished the second coat with about 3-4 places that had the deep wrinkles and decided I would let it dry overnight and then sand out the wrinkles the next day. I also accidentally stepped on it and had a nice dirty brown footprint and imprint in the still wet paint. *sobs*

When I got up on Saturday and sanded out the wrinkles and the footprint, I went a little too deep and had to go over those areas with another coat of the white paint. I went ahead and went over all of it, to make sure it was even (no wrinkles this time) and then set up a fan and had the windows open. This time I let it dry for 24 hours and didn't come back to it until Sunday morning. I lost a whole day because I was too impatient the first time so make sure you do your research! 

Now I swept, vacuumed, and wiped the floor with a wet cloth once more. I let it dry and got to work on stenciling. 

I purchased this stencil from Etsy $12 and did it first on my full tiles. My tiles are 17 X 17 and I really think this would be a much easier project for smaller tiles. But I made it work. I would recommend using spray adhesive, letting it dry for a few minutes (so it doesn't leave residue on your floor). I didn't have any but all the blogs and videos I watched showed that the stencils would leave much cleaner lines because all the portions of the stencils are stuck to the floor. I didn't want to wait and order some from amazon so I just used painter's tape and it did the job just fine. 

I used my foam rollers and chalk paint. You want to make sure the paint isn't on too thick so that it blobs or runs under the stencil, but also that it's not on too thin which would cause you to push down too much, and you'd have the same problem. My strategy was to get it fully coated, then roll it a few times on a brown paper bag. If you have blank blotches , you don't have enough paint. If you have bubble, drips, or lines, you have too much. I would roll it out a few times on the brown paper bag until it looked uniform and perfect and then get to rolling the floor. This probably wasted paint, but it was what made me most comfortable. 

Once I had all my full tiles done (only 4), I cut my stencil in half. It took some finangling to get it pushed up against the wall and around the toilet, but I just did my best and if I couldn't get the roller in there very well, I would trace the part of the stencil I needed with a black sharpie, and then use a foam brush to paint the inside of the traced area. On the teeny tiny part of the tile you can see right up to the door frame, I basically did free hand. I used a piece of cardboard for my edges, and measured the stencil to make sure my placement was accurate. 

This $7 is the chalk paint I used. I wish I hadn't used acrylic. It just wasn't sturdy enough- my thoughts were that I would be putting a durable top coat on anyway, but I still wish I had used a rustoleum or valspar paint, even if it wasn't chalky looking. My top coat is matte anyway so it wouldn't have looked too shiny. Even after it was dry, my dog ran in and got a dirty paw print on a few of the black diamonds, I couldn't even wipe them off without the paint wrinkling. I ended up having to go over those areas multiple times to make sure it looked uniform. 

Once it was done, I let it dry for just about an hour and got to work on the top coat. 

At this point, I was complaining about my knees so much that Mat bought me some knee pads. I didn't include this in the total because they were a gift! They changed my life for the rest of the day, so I'd 100% recommend you getting these up front. Plus you can use them on so many other things on your upcoming projects! 

This  $15 is what I used for the top coat after researching. I rolled on 5 coats, letting each coat dry for about an hour before rolling on another. This is truly matte! It goes on a milky white and then clears to a beautiful clear matte. It almost looks like there is no top coat! 

It will need to dry for a week before we can walk normally on the floor and get it wet. 

Final touches were the shower curtain $20 and the decor items I already had. 

The shelves I hung, I already owned because they were at my old house and I had yet to find a new place to hang them. But I got them on sale at Michaels last year for $20 a piece. I removed the rope with pliers. 

Total for all: $196 

Ellis wants me to work on her bathroom next, which is a nasty bright blue with crystal knobs. blech. I'll keep you updated!

Maybe Chapter 1

“Mapleshade or Jayfeather?”, I asked my nine year old daughter, Ellis.

“What? Mom, why?” Even through the phone I could hear her rolling her eyes at my attempt to give a shit about her latest book series obsession.

“Well, I thought about ordering you a cake for your birthday with one of your favorite Warrior Cats. Would that be lame?”, I asked in a tone that told her hormones that I came in peace.

“No! Moooooom, I would love it! Just make SURE it is Mapleshade”.

“Mapleshade? Are you sure? Ugh, every picture I found of him he looks like an angry man-cat. Like a cat who writes his mayor every day to complain about the weather or his gas mileage.” I was already distracted and had her on speakerphone while I scrolled through my phone.

“Mom. Mapleshade is a GIRL. Just because she looks like a boy doesn’t mean you should assume genders. Even with cats, it’s really not okay.” Ellis’s voice proudly smirked at me as we said our goodbyes and hung up.

I laughed and immediately thought of Matthew, my older brother by less than a year, who is the wokest person I know. I speedily typed into my phone to him:  “Ellis just told me not to assume genders, even of cats. Your nine year old niece is more woke than both of us. I bet you didn’t think the movement involved cats.”

 I threw my phone down and grabbed Collins, Ellis’s 5 year old sister, to take her to bed. She was going to get an extra-long bedtime tonight, because Adrian, her 15 year old brother, and Ellis were visiting Grandparents in Oklahoma. Since my husband, Mat, was also out of state working, it was just the two of us tonight and that was very rare. With three kids, I normally stumble through the bedtime nagging of the older two to do various hygiene stuff before bed. By the time that fighting is done, Collins just getting out of bed to ask for an extra hug can be my breaking point. But that night, I took my time. I let her tell me stories from her preschool day that were excruciatingly banal. I got my guitar and sang her a few Beatles songs.  She really likes “Blackbird” because a movie she watches has a little boy and his mom who call it their extra special song.

“Yeah! The extra special song!”

She went to bed happy and I closed her door tight. I called Ruthie, my wheaten terrier, to come with me as I settled into my huge bed. I texted my Dad to ask about our Game of Thrones fantasy league. I read some recaps about the first episode, scrolled through social media, ate a few oreos, and finally took my sleeping medicine. As I was drifting off to sleep, I grabbed my phone one more time.

“Matthew didn’t text me back, that’s weird”, I hazily thought as my eyes got heavier.

“Mommy. Mommy.”, I felt an annoyingly gentle brush of a hand against my upper arm.  

“Collins nooooooooo”, I groaned.

Collins had gotten into the habit of getting a hug from Mat in the middle of the night every night. For me, when he was gone, it was like my sleep’s death sentence. With my chronic insomnia, getting woken up in the middle of the night meant I would not be able to go back to sleep and would have to go ahead and start my day.

I tried to resist, I kept my eyes closed and half-patted her, forcing my voice to be kind and something resembling motherly.

But, as most mothers will know, that wouldn’t do. I had to carry her back to bed.

“Can you sing me the extra special song?” She asked as my eyes became way too clear and wide to have a chance at going back to sleep.

“No!”, I told the adorable little demon who shared my face. “Stay in bed!”

I rushed back to my bedroom, trying not to look at the clock in the dining room or the stove. Sometimes, if it’s early enough in the night and I don’t look at the clock, I can manage to calm my mind enough to go back to sleep.

I snuggled deep under my covers, humming Blackbird. I put a pillow over my face.  Take these broken wings and learn to fly,  I pulled Ruthie into my chest All your life I grabbed a chunk of blankets and hugged them against my stomach.  Blaaaaackbird flyyyyy  I wanted to cry, I was so sleepy and was worried about another sleepless night.

I grabbed my phone to look at the time. It was 2AM. I could still get 5 hours of sleep.

2 MISSED CALLS, DAD  

          

I put my phone back down, facedown and shook my head at my parents. They were night owls, and since they knew I had insomnia they would sometimes call late, just in case I was up. The whole Flowers family were late nighters!

“Why, 2 calls, though?” a voice hit me as I tried to clear my mind for restfulness.

Curious, I picked up my phone again and looked at the time of the calls. Both had been after midnight. Dad would never try to call me twice after midnight unless something was wrong. I checked my texts and there were none. I started to text him to ask if everything was okay but couldn’t bring myself to. I KNEW something was wrong. And I KNEW it had to be about my mother.

Mom had been having issues with her kidney function for the better part of a year. With only guesses as to why, she had been making some big lifestyle changes that mostly included drinking a lot more water and stopping certain medications. I had seen her the weekend before, when they had met me in Austin while I was there working. She seemed perkier, but still weak and not herself. She had texted me a picture a few days before that she was now suffering from Bells Pallsy and half her face was weak. I had been busy with work and called quickly to check on her but she seemed to be almost amused by it so I hadn’t worried. Maybe not as much as I should have.

Was I ready to make this phone call?

I shifted between lying down and sitting up. What’s the best way to position your body when you’re about to get bad news? I didn’t know. I had never had any life-altering news before. I had never lost anyone close to me. I’d lost Grandparents that I loved, acquaintances that made me sad, and a dog who I had grown up with.  Those were the moments I went back to when I tried to figure out how to handle this.

I dialed my dad’s number back.

“Maybe he won’t answer” the voice said. “Maybe he went back to sleep because it was nothing.”

“Hi Marigold” Dad’s voice broke through the line, comforting me.

He’s fine! He sounds good. I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back into my pillow.

“Hi Dad, what’s up?” I said, trying to hide my irritation of the unnecessary scare.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, you didn’t. Collins did. What’s up?” I pressed him.

His voice cracked. I wish there was another word for cracked. His voice broke into a million little pieces that I immediately wanted to pick up for him but he would never let me because he was the leader of the family and always made my comfort a priority.

“This is the- the worst day of my life.” He stifled a sob and I sat up, somber.

I heard my sister sobbing in the background. I let him cry for 2 seconds and then made myself say it.

“DID MOM DIE” I shouted, not even a question, more of a demand for him to say the words I knew were true.

“IS SHE DEAD, DAD!”

Dad swallowed and choked down his tears and said something that began with “Your brother was found in Yosemite National Park…”

The shock, the hysteria, maybe the sleeping meds took over and all I can now remember are bits and pieces of the rest of the night.

I was hit with the sudden realization that my mother was alive, I could also hear her weeping in the background. I was dowsed with a feeling that in any other world would look like relief. My Mom was fine. My world should be okay.

I then brought myself back to the moment and tried to comprehend what my Dad was saying, but it sounded too medical to match our emotions.

“Dad! Dead? Is Matthew dead?!” I said

“Your brother is dead, Marigold, I’m so sorry. This is the hardest phone call I’ve ever had to make in my life.” He cried.

I didn’t cry.

I asked more questions. How did he fall. How did they know it was an accident. How did he and 

Mom find out.

MATTHEW.

MATTHEW.

 I screamed

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I wailed in an animal voice I could never mimic.

I didn’t cry.

My dad told me as much as he could. I don’t remember if I talked to my mom or not and my mom doesn’t remember if she said anything, but she was on speakerphone and remembers my voice.

I told him I wanted to get off the phone. He made me promise to call my husband. He had already called Mat and told him the news and Mat would be expecting a call from me. They were worried about me. I was alone.

I called Mat, even though I didn’t want to, and I don’t remember anything about that call. Mat said all I did was scream and wail for 20 minutes. He tried to get me to talk about some logistics, should he come home to Charlotte or to Oklahoma, what should we do with the dogs, how would Collins be taken care of,  etc. I don’t believe I was able to speak and we eventually hung up.

 I yelled and moaned and let myself actually cry. Harder than I ever have before. I heaved and cried and screamed and punched and said out loud, “I cannot get through this, I will not get through this, I FUCKING REFUSE”. I was physically hurting: my chest unable to expand, my temples pulsating, all my joints aching, my heart feeling as though it was going to explode out of my throat with fire.

And then I fell asleep.

Trying to Sail my FriendShip

Making friends when you were a kid was so easy.

You live next door and your mom is pretty? I'm in.

Making friends in middle school was easy.

You are on my softball team and you have a hot brother? Let's do this thing.

Making friends in high school was easy.

You're attractive and rich and people don't bully you? Get in my car.


Making platonic friends as an adult is a non-starter. Basically, imagine that you're trying to find someone to marry you, but you have a 100% guarantee that they don't want to have sex with you. That's why friending is so much harder than dating. For the same reason that living with your boyfriend/girlfriend is so much easier than living with your platonic friend. You always had sex to make things better! Sex fixes everything!

I moved to Charlotte, NC 4 years ago, after having grown up in Edmond, Oklahoma for my actual entire life. Not only did I live in the same town for my conception and birth, I was there for kindergarten through high school graduation and then into college. Then, as though I hadn't given the city enough of my soul,  I was raising my own kids there! I basically had a best friend at every restaurant and retail store. Every time I went to Target, it was a high school reunion. My favorite bar was where everyone knew my name and had had sex with all my friends.

But there I was: 32 years old, mother of 3, and without anyone to come over and listen to my hilarious stories.

I noticed that the three girls who lived next door were pretty and were constantly bringing each other salads. They were probably a little younger than me but definitely not too fun for me. When we left our houses at the same time, I would try to make eye contact to no avail. One time I even tried to get adorable 2 year old Collins to yell something out to them as an ice-breaker. Even Collins wasn't here for my desperation.

We had been living there a little over a week when I noticed that we were unable to sit in the backyard anywhere, because we would get dive bombed by large satanic bees.

These were not the cute and fuzzy pollinating bees of yesteryear. They had a huge shiny black ass, and they would get close enough to you and hover; my dad even reached out and touched one. There has nary been one in Oklahoma, I can tell you that.

I am terrified of bees. I knowwwwwww they are good for the earth and for the lord and what not, but they also sting you when you're just trying to drink a juice box while playing soccer.

I decided they had to go. We had a wonderful back deck and tons of trees and we couldn't enjoy it.

Operation kill the bees.

I called my landlord to let him know about the bee problem and he said "Oh, they're just carpenter bees. They don't sting, the males can't even sting, they just dive bomb you to try to scare you away from their women, who are probably burrowed all over the deck and fence."

Oh, cool.

"Yeah, okay, I kinda want to kill them anyways."

He emailed his exterminator and copied me, and the exterminator wrote back and accidentally replied all:

"She wants to kill the carpenter bees! What a nightmare tenant, did you tell her about the males not being able to sting?"

I responded and said "I'm not a nightmare tenant in any way except in the ways related to bees. Thx."

Why is everyone in Charlotte a judgmental Apiculturist? 

I decided operation kill the bees was the best opportunity to make friends with the hotties next door. I could just "let them know" we'd be spraying or something to the effect.

It was about 1PM on a weekday and I knocked on the door. Anne answered, looked severely disappointed as though she had immediately assumed I was a salesperson. (How had she not noticed me eye stalking her for a week every time she walked to her car?) She looked past me and said "Oh, I only opened the door because I thought you were my roommate, she's bringing me a salad."

Me: *nervous af* Oh, no worries! I just wanted to introduce myself, my name is Mary and I just moved in next door.

Right at that moment, roommate with salad slid in behind me and passed Anne her salad and gave her a look like "eek enjoy her, you're on your own".

Anne: *nods* *raises eyebrows with minimal enthusiasm*

Me: Anyways, I wanted to see what you thought about our bee problem?

Anne: *raises eyebrows but now in a quizzical way*

Me: Have you been in the backyard lately? Our fences and decks are covered with them!

Anne: *Steps out on porch and looks back into the side yard* Oh yeah. We don't go back there.

Me: Okay, I just didn't know if y'all had cats or dogs or anything. They're coming to spray tomorrow. I also wanted to let you know they're carpenter bees, so they don't like pollinate or anything. *laughs* I was kinda wanting to make sure you wouldn't start a strike against me or something to save the bees. *laughs harder* because you know, these ones are just assholes and don't have to be saved.

Anne: Okay, thanks. I gotta go eat my salad real quick, I have to head back to work.

Me: Oh, of course. Me too! I work too. I'm an Account Exec- oh okay, bye!

Anne shuts the door.

I could only laugh at myself as I walked back to my house. I had not had to work to make friends in a loooong time and this was excruciating. Were all my Oklahoma friends just pretending I was fun because I was their only Oklahoma option?

A few days later, Ellis and Collins were playing in the front yard and I was sitting on the porch, on social media, connecting with the only friends  I had: cyber. I heard a car pull up next door and a beautiful girl got out. She immediately ran over to my yard and said "HI! I'm Nancy and I live next door! What's your name!?" to Collins and Ellis. They talked to her for a few enthusiastic minutes and then she walked over to the porch to talk to me.

She was a radiant beam of light. She had a gorgeous genuine smile that lit up the universe.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been by to introduce myself, my boyfriend took me to meet his parents in the Outer Banks so I've been gone all week but I couldn't wait to come meet you! I LOVE KIDS. If you EVER need someone to hang out with them, please come over and knock! My roommates don't love kids, but I swear I will come watch them for free at your house anytime. I CANNOT WAIT to have kids!"

I just smiled and nodded and took her in. I loved her immediately. I knew she was much younger than me and seemed more interested in my kids but I needed her in my life.

I asked how long they had lived there, how they knew each other, etc, and then complimented her on the gigantic hydrangea they had in the back. She popped on into the backyard and cut me a huge bouquet and brought it to me.

"We seriously never go back there, if you EVER want to go cut yourself some, please feel free to do so!"

She then headed inside and I pulled a Mary and got to stalking. I pulled up who owned the house, Anne, then pulled her up on facebook and found her friend Nancy. She was 24, wayyyyy too young to be friends with me but maybe I could make her my nanny? Or I could utilize her in some other way because she was a beacon of light in a friendless world.

Then I pulled up Nancy on linkedin.

This was my mistake. I forgot that you can see when people look at your profile on linkedin. Within 4 minutes of meeting her I had already figured out her last name and where she worked and the poor thing must have been terrified. She never brought her radiant face over again and moved in with her boyfriend shortly after.

My Oklahoma friends now use "I thought we could talk about the bees problem?" as a sharp notification that I'm being awkward and to stick with the friends I have.

Having lunch on a bee-free porch in 2016!

31 days

31 days left in an impossible year.

It seems unbearable to keep going for 31 days when I’m in so much pain. Pain that gets easily distracted because I am deeply loved and lucky enough to have more pleasant moments in my day than not.

I understand that people lose jobs. 

People lose loved ones. 

People make big moves (figurative and literal).

People feel big feelings they don’t understand.

I never thought I’d be one of those people.

How lucky am I to have gone 36 years without this kind of pain? I know so many who have felt this debilitating heartache time and time again before they even entered adulthood.

I feel guilty for making my pain such a “thing”. Why should I need anyone to care about what I feel?

I know January 1 doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to magically feel like 2018 Mary again, or be able to pretend like 2019 didn’t exist. But it’s my goal date. My date of grace. To move to a different stage of my grief and sadness to where I can work harder towards being who I want to be for my kids, my husband, my parents, my friends, and my community.

I’ll be ringing in this new year harder than I ever have.

Company woman.

This is a picture from this day last year. We were in Chicago for a family vacation over Thanksgiving break. My husband, two daughters, and my in-laws spent the day sight-seeing and sent me this picture.

I remember looking at it a few hours after they sent it, and felt a longing in my soul to be there with them. I wanted the carefree smile of Collins’ freezingly cold rosy cheeks. 

But I couldn’t be.

I was working in the hotel room.

I knew my numbers were low and I had an impossible deal I was trying desperately to close. I had spent hours on the phone with an executive at my company, seeking advice and not wanting there to be ANY question that I was giving this my all.

We came up with a plan that failed. We talked to the customer again, And still came up short-handed. The customer was asking for something they shouldn’t be, but I was so desperate for those numbers that I was trying to defy logic. I was trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit. I hadn’t slept the night before just thinking about how I would handle the objections that were to come.

My husband called me to tell me where they were going for dinner.

“Can you just bring me back something? I have a long email I need to get out before 6pm EST”

The disappointment in his voice was palpable, but he understood. He always did.

I spent over an hour crafting the perfect email, copying all the important people that would see it, that would know I was doing everything I could to save this deal. That NO MATTER WHAT, I was a company (wo)man.

It wasn’t saved, and I will never be in this adorable Chicago Thanksgiving picture from 2018.

That company fired me less than 6 weeks later.

Don’t ever make yourself loyal to a company who is not loyal to you. Put your family first. We never know when we are going to regret the moments we could have had with them. We never know when we might lose them.

I learned so much in 2019. ❤️

Sad but kinda appropriate :)

I couldn't put my finger on why I continue to post on social media about my brother. Sympathy makes me uncomfortable and every time I post about him, I cry.

He's dead.

I came to the conclusion that I selfishly do not want him to be forgotten. If everyone I know can remember just a little bit about him every so often, then at least he's a thought. A thought or a memory is far from getting him back, but it's also just as far away from nothingness.


When I get all up in my feelings, I research. I read a book about everyone who has ever died at Yosemite National Park. I dug into the author of the book and couldn't find an email address for him, but I did find his cell phone number. I shot him a text, asking for his email address so I could send him some questions I had.

He didn't respond too kindly, as it was 4AM where he was.

When we did connect later, he was unhelpful. I came to find he was simply gathering as much information as he could about my brother's death for his next edit. Although, I am not sure the type of help I was even seeking from him, so it's probably unfair to call him unhelpful. He wanted to get down to business and I just wanted someone to obsess over this type of death with.

My friend Stephen was visiting Yosemite and I had him find the place where my brother had fallen. I asked him to send me pictures of what he would have been looking at before he fell. I stopped myself short of asking him to go on the exact hike/trail and Facetime me, but I promise I was close.

Turns out, Stephen also lost a brother, which I hadn't realized. He gave me the best advice:

"Stop picturing him in death and remember how he lived."

I'm trying. I really am. Matthew knows I am trying. He visits me in my dreams at least 4 times a week. One night, as I was fighting insomnia, I screamed out loud for Matthew to leave me alone, stay out of my dreams for just this sleep,  PLEASE. He listened.

Instead, I had a dream that I frequently have: I keep finding huge and beautiful secret rooms in my house.

Matthew was an expert on dreams. When we went through his house we found bookshelves full of the study of dreaming. The week before he died, he even gave an impressive lecture about lucid dreaming. It took Kendal and I about 4 hours to get through it because we had to google most of the words, but if you're into that kind of thing you should watch.

Matthew Flowers : Lucid Dreaming

The hardest part about losing Matthew is witnessing the pain my parents feel. The 2nd hardest part is selfish. I miss the way he made me feel.

Does my racism hurt your feelings, Mom?

The Nature Walk

Ellis was so happy to have me there. She held my hand, told me I looked pretty, and made sure her friends scooted down to make me a motherly hip-sized spot on the spiderweb and bugspray encrusted outdoor bench.

"I can change the world" 

It was her 8th birthday and her teacher had asked for parent volunteers to go on their annual Nature Walk in the woods behind their school. I normally am unable to participate in most field trips and outings because I work a lot but this one only lasted an hour and I had a work-from-home day so I could hang!

 When one of Ellis's friends told me she liked acorns, I said I did too. When she found me one and handed it to me, I tucked it into that tiny pocket of my Lululemon wunder unders and let it stay there, awkwardly crunching against my hip for the duration of the walk because I have the never ending need to bond with humans over whatever means necessary.

Another one of her friends asked me if I liked her bow. I hated it. It was huge and it cost $18, she said. I wondered if that little girl knew all the cool shit her mom could've gotten with that $18. Was that pre-tax or post-tax? I need to know. If we had $20 to work with, my list of better purchase options would have been even longer.  I told her I loved the color and the fabric was very durable and she looked like a dancer. That was all true and her little eyes sparkled with love for Ellis's mom.

Ellis's teacher instructed them to line up in line order. I quickly discovered that that was a soft alphabetical request mixed with a couple of exceptions so the pretty girls don't have to walk behind the immigrants:

The boy behind Ellis motioned that she could go ahead of him. Ellis tossed her hair and turned back to grab my hand to pull me up beside her. I did a behind the teeth smile and said in my fun-yet-stern-modern-mom voice:

"Ellis, can you tell him thank you for letting you go first?" 

"Oh. It's okay! He's spanish and, like, doesn't speak English anyway." 

I considered pretending acting like I didn't know her but I thought we were probably beyond the point that I could sell that.

"ELLIS. I'm sure that's not true. You should talk to him more often, don't assume anything about anyone!" 

"Okay! Thanks Emiliano!" She said happily and ran off, oblivious to her blatant and embarrassing  racism.

She came back a few seconds later and threw a tortilla at Emiliano and yelled BUILD THAT WALL!

(Okay, just kidding about that last part. But my heart sure felt like she had)

I held back and said "Emiliano, I'm going to talk to her today. I know she's wrong and it's not at all right for her to talk to you like that."

Emiliano nodded and said, in pretty damn good English, "I speak English, I'm just from Uruguay so I only learned it two years ago." 

 I asked him a couple more questions about himself because, again, #neverendingneedtobondwithhumansoverwhatevermeansnecessary.

After the walk ended, I presented the cupcakes I had brought for Ellis's class for her birthday. They were all gathering around me, just trying to touch me, hoping some of my cupcake-producing magic would rub off on them.

When I picked Ellis up that day after school, I had my other kids in the car so I knew it wasn't the right time to have a long discussion with her about stereotypes and judgment but her little ass jumped in the car ready to have a chat about the nature walk.

"Mom I want to talk to you about what happened at the nature walk" 

"Okay, honey. We can wait until we get home so we can have some privacy." 

"Because you want to cry?"

"Oh, Ellis, I won't cry. I just want you to have some perspective you may not have." 

"Oh. What's your perschpetctive or whatever you said.?

"I talked to Emiliano and - "

"Oh, Mom, not about that. I was just going to tell you about some mean things my friend Ramona said about you." 

I almost needed to pull over. What was happening? Could I handle the constructive criticism of any of those kids? I tried hard to think if any of them were better than me in any way but my memory was coming up blank; I had a car, a job, a husband, lipstick that stays on through anything, a sense of humor, I knew the ins and outs of snapchat. I feigned confidence a dismissive attitude.

"Oh yeah? What'd she say?" 

"Mom, I really don't want it to hurt your feelings." 

"Well, honey, then don't tell me." 

"But it really hurt my feelings too, Mom, because I love you and you're so nice and it made me cry." 

"OKAY WHAT WAS IT" I asked, a little too eagerly.

"She said she wants to murder you. Isn't that mean? Doesn't that hurt your feelings? I mean, I don't want anyone to murder you, you're so nice." 

I then asked a question I never thought I would have to ask.

"What did I do to that 7 year old that would have her planning my murder?!" 

"She said you stole her Mom's spot as volunteer, BUT after I told on her for saying she wants to murder my mom and she hates her, our teacher told her that wasn't even true. Ramona's mom couldn't come to the nature walk because she had a meeting. So it didn't even have ANYTHING to do with you taking the spot. She just, like, still hates you and wants to murder you." 

"...and she's your friend?" 

"Yeah! She's usually really nice! Sometimes she gets really grumpy and says things like 'I don't know why everyone likes Ellis', but sometimes she's fun. She says she thinks I shouldn't be popular because I'm not that fun. I'm not even popular though, I just have a lot of friends." 

"Okay, I'd like you to stay away from Ramona. I don't like the use of the word hate and I really am uncomfortable with her using the word murder. Also, do we even need to be dissecting popularity yet? You're 8." 

"Okay. I will. I don't think she'll really murder you though Mom, so you don't have to be scared tonight or anything. I just can't believe she hated you enough that she threw your cupcake away." 

"Hold on, WHAT. She hates me so much she wouldn't even eat a cupcake from Suarez effing Bakery because I had touched it!?"


I now understand that it doesn't matter what kind of diplomatic actions you take to try to include all races, gender, and sexes in a nature walk. If a mean-girl senses your weakness, she'll plan your murder and dispose of your $3.75 sugary peace offering.

Have I mentioned how much easier working is than being around children? 

My son went to middle school and didn't have a shit experience

"....so I asked her, 'Hey, when I had to bring that note into Mrs. Arthur's class today, you guys stopped talking and gave me a funny look. I'm sure it's probably nothing, but were you guys talking about me?' 

...and you know what she said, Adrian? 

'Oh, yeah we were. We were just talking about how ugly you are.' 

She said it like it was such common knowledge that I didn't even feel comfortable protesting or questioning her explanation. I just said, 'ohhhh okay'  like she had just told me she liked giraffes and then I went home and thought about what life would be like if I could die. 

THAT'S WHAT MIDDLE SCHOOL IS LIKE, BUDDY. IT'S GOING TO BE THE HARDEST 3 YEARS OF YOUR LIFE AND I JUST NEED YOU TO TALK TO ME WHEN IT GETS TOUGH AND WE'LL GET YOU THROUGH IT, OKAY?" 

We were walking to his school for his 6th grade orientation, 2 weeks before school started. I had saved this conversation for this very day. I had planned to walk the mile to his school so we could have this conversation while sweating our heartfelt feelings out into the August heat. I told him all about the terrible things I went through in middle school including:

• Writing a love letter to a boy whose friend then stood on a table and read it to the lunchroom
• Realizing all of a sudden that school wasn't just doing the hokey pokey and playing with the classroom tarantula at circle time, I actually had to study and work and if I didn't, I would get Fs and nobody would like me. 
• All of a sudden, I wasn't cool. I was a nerd. People told me and I had to accept it. There's nothing worse than being a nerd that doesn't get good grades. What did I have to fall back on? At least legit nerds were smart. I just liked Disney movies and snowcones and Sweet Valley High.
• I wasn't as good at sports as I thought I was. I had to be on the B team, which was almost worse than not playing a sport. 
• My hormones were a ball of wasps fucking snakes. I couldn't even get to the point where I could make sense of anything I was crying about. One minute it would be because I missed my Mom when she was in the next room over and the next I'd be crying because of how much I hated the movie "Forrest Gump." 

He nodded in understanding and laughed when I made jokes. He promised to talk to me if he was being bullied, to tell me if he was sad, and to give me a proper heads up if he was struggling with the work. That's all you can really ask of a 12 year old boy, right? 

Well, come September,  I wasn't getting a lot of feedback. 

It was a diverse school in a big city. The school was about 3 times bigger than any school he would've gone to in Edmond.  They weren't allowed to carry backpacks. The principal bragged to me that they'd gone a full year without finding guns in anyone's lockers. Adrian and I were thinking."...goood....job...?"

"School is fine", he'd say. "Nothing like you talked about." 

I knew that couldn't be right. Sure, he had made a few friends, he had a group of kids he walked with every day,  he told me about enjoying the group he played basketball and soccer with.  But there must be someone telling him he's ugly....some girl making fun of him in front of her friends...some teacher that had it out for him. Right? 

_______________________

He told me who the cool guys in 6th grade were. He pointed them out to me when we were trick or treating with his little sisters. Cool guys were trick or treating with 8th grade girls.  I offered to walk ahead of him so they wouldn't know he was with his mom and he wouldn't get made fun of. He said "They won't make fun of me", very nonchalantly. 

Later that night when Mat had taken over with the door-to-door duties and I was passing out glow sticks to the trick or treaters, I saw the cool kids coming and braced myself for their shitheadedness. 

"Hi! Wow! Glow sticks! How cool!" Cool guy said "Should I grab one, or do you want to choose which one I take?" 

"You can grab 4, and would you like some connectors? They're right here", I said, confused at his sweet demeanor. 

"Really, wow thank you!"  He took four and I accidentally dropped my bowl.  He leaned down to help me pick them up! Him and the other guy told me my shark attack costume was "awesome and savage" and the girls with them smiled and sweetly said thank you as well. 

"Hey doesn't Adrian live here? Tell him we said hey!" 

and then they left. What is life? 

________________________________________

One day, as Adrian was walking next door I noticed an older kid in a black hoodie on a bike ride up beside him and shout something out at him. Adrian waved him away and the kid kept talking to him. Adrian was shaking his head and then walked into his friend's house. 

I spent the next hour creating elaborate scenarios of what that little shithead could've said to my sweet baby angel. Why did he have to seek him out? Why couldn't he just have left him alone?!

When Adrian got inside, I pounced. 

"Who was that big kid that stopped you?" 

"That's Greg. He's in 8th grade." 

"Was he being mean? What did he want?" 

"What? No, he's friends with a girl I walk with and we talk sometimes." 

"It looked like you were arguing." 

"MOM. He's really nice. He just said hi and then told me I was right about these headphones I told him to order on Amazon. We were joking about which is better, playstation or xbox. Stop. No one is mean to me." 

Okay, so maybe Greg wasn't a shithead? 

___________________________________

Adrian wanted to be dropped off at the YMCA so he could play some basketball, rather than coming with me to an eyebrow appointment. I was hesitant because he would be by himself but he said he would just shoot some baskets and he'd keep his phone on him. 

When I picked him up an hour later, he was giddy with happiness. 

"Oh my gosh, Mom. You aren't going to believe what happened!" He squealed

"I was shooting baskets and Jamal Woodruff was playing with his friends at the other end of the court. I knew it was him because I have seen videos of him playing at school. MOM HE IS THE STAR OF OUR MIDDLE SCHOOL BASKETBALL TEAM AND HE'S HUUUUUUUUUUGE."

"Okay", I said, skeptical as all hell where this was going. 

Some 8th grade Lebron James that is the star of the basketball team was there with all his friends and you were in there shooting by yourself, with your palate expander and your little Edmond ankle socks? 

"Go on." 

"So I walked up and asked him if he wanted to play 1X1." 

My stomach and heart and brain all fell out of my belly button and I immediately wanted to call my therapist. 

"and he said YES. I asked him if he was Jamal Woodruff, he said yes again. I told him I knew he was the best basketball player. I told him I'd been working on my 3 pointers." 

WHY IS ADRIAN HAPPY. WHY IS ADRIAN HAPPY RIGHT NOW. 

"So we played twice, and the first time I almost beat him! Then he laughed and told me I was pretty good. But it turns out he was just going easy on me and then we played again and he crushed me. I didn't get a single point." 

"Oh honey", I started "I'm so sorry that happ-"

"Mom, no it was awwwwwwesome! Of course he killed me! But HE TOLD ME I WAS PRETTY GOOD. And he said I could play with him and his friends anytime AND he high-fived me." 

"I can't." I whispered, out of breath. "You just walked up to a group of 8th grade star basketball players and kindly asked for friendship and they just GAVE IT TO YOU? WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THIS WORLD?"

I can't figure out if the moral of the story is to not go to middle school in Edmond, Oklahoma or don't be a girl when you go to middle school. Way to go, Charlotte, North Carolina for raising some seriously non-shitty kids.

Also, Adrian? You're a total badass.